


You'll Always be Beautiful

by grimmfairy



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Haircuts, John Loves Sherlock, John thinks Sherlock is beautiful, Johnlock - Freeform, Johnlock Fluff, M/M, Non-Consensual Haircuts, Sherlock Loves John, Sherlock is captured, Sherlock is hurt, Sherlock's Hair
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-26
Updated: 2014-05-26
Packaged: 2018-01-26 15:44:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1693733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grimmfairy/pseuds/grimmfairy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for a head-canon on tumblr by Whimsical Ethnographies (whimsicalethnographies.tumblr.com). </p><p>Sherlock gets himself into a bad situation again because he goes off on his own after a murderer that shaves people's heads and then stabs them to death. Sherlock gets his head shaved and thinks he isn't beautiful anymore to John because John loves his hair, loves to run his fingers through it. John lets him know he's an idiot and that he will always think he's beautiful.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You'll Always be Beautiful

**Author's Note:**

  * For [WhimsicalEthnographies](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhimsicalEthnographies/gifts).



"You have beautiful hair," A voice purred in his ear. Sherlock maintained his blank mask, refusing to show fear or anger. "So thick and curly. It's such a shame you couldn't leave well enough alone. A shame for you, that is."

Sherlock once again mentally kicked himself for going off on his own. He knew that if he could do it again, he probably still wouldn't have retrieved John from the flat or called Lestrade. He had underestimated the man in front of him.

The murders of several people found with shaved heads had baffled Scotland Yard for many reasons. The main one being why they had shaved heads. No finger prints had been found at any of the five crime scenes, and the only trace evidence of any note was the presence of the hair of one of the previous vitims at the latest crime scene. Sherlock had been analyzing one of these hairs at Bart's when he found his answer.

 "How long have the doctors given you?" Sherlock asked suddenly. The man came around and stood before Sherlock.

"Six months," He answered. Sherlock observed the tell-tale baldness and sickly appearance of a chemo patient with a small thrill of gratification. He had been right.

"Your hair started falling out after you started chemo. You're a vain man. The weight loss and sickly appearance didn't bother you, nor did the near constant sickness. All you cared about losing was your hair. Makes sense because you were by trade a high-end wig-maker until you went out of business trying to pay your medical bills, and to you the highest mark of beauty is a full head of good hair. You are angry that the thing you have worked your whole life to hide in other people has now come after you. Am I right?"

The man looked angry, but he suddenly smiled.

"Yes, of course you're right. But you left out one thing."

"What did I miss, besides the fact you would be waiting for me with a blow to the head?" Sherlock asked, eyeing the instrument in the man's hand.

"You're vain too, aren't you? I can tell. You take good care of your hair. It's well-conditioned and clean, healthy and lustrous. You must think of it as one of your best features. I watched you at the crime scene. I followed you, watched the way your partner ran his fingers through your hair. You see, I may not be as smart as you," The man gripped Sherlock's head and guided it back. "But I know hair. And yours is exactly what I've been looking for."

Sherlock tried to jerk out of the man's grasp, but restrained as he was to the barber's chair he couldn't escape.

"I wonder how he'll react when he finds you."

* * *

John burst into the hospital. Lestrade was waiting for him in the waiting area with a grave expression on his face.

"Where is he? They wouldn't let me ride in the ambulance with him," John said tightly. He was panicking inside but right now Sherlock needed him calm.

"He's in surgery. The knife went into his shoulder and nicked an artery. They're trying to stop the bleeding, but the doctor was optimistic." Lestrade rubbed his eyes tiredly, and John noticed they had some blood on them. John had realized something was wrong when Molly called to ask where Sherlock had gone in the middle of his investigation. He had tracked Sherlock's cellphone and called Lestrade to give him the address. Lestrade reached got there first to find Sherlock bleeding on the ground next to another unconscious man.

"What happened?" John felt his calm facade crumbling.

"As far as we can figure, the suspect had Sherlock restrained with handcuffs to the chair, and Sherlock picked the locks in time to deflect the knife from his chest to his arm," Lestrade put his hand on John's shoulder. "You taught him how to stem the bleeding, and he's alive because he did that until I got there. He's going to be fine, John."

"Why didn't that idiot come get me?" John asked no one in particular. Lestrade shrugged.

"Because he's Sherlock, God help us," Lestrade coughed awkwardly. "Um, John. One more thing. He shaved Sherlock's head to make a wig with it, like the other victims."

John felt his chest constrict. He had once told Sherlock that his favorite thing to do was to run his fingers through Sherlock's hair. That he loved the way it looked in the morning. So many compliments about his hair.

John and Lestrade sat in the waiting room silently, John thinking about how Sherlock would react to seeing him in his bad state. Sherlock always preened in front of the mirror when he thought John wasn't looking, fixing his curls so they lay in the right places. John regretted once telling Sherlock that his hair was his favorite feature. He knew how Sherlock thought.

Finally, a doctor called for family and friends of Sherlock Holmes. John stood up and walked over, where he had a short conversation with the doctor before asking if he could see Sherlock. The doctor led him to a room, and told him to call if he needed anything. John took a deep breath and squared his shoulders before opening the door.

Sherlock was sitting up in bed as far as the bed would allow, resting as the effects of the drugs made him tired. White bandages peaked out from under the shoulder of Sherlock's hospital gown, and bruises ringed Sherlock's wrists where the handcuffs had dug in too hard. His shaved head gave him an almost unearthly look, like a sprite caught in the world of man.

John knew that Sherlock was aware of his presence, but Sherlock wouldn't meet his gaze directly, instead peeking out from under his lashes.

"Sherlock...?" John half-whispered, unwilling to break the heavy silence. After what felt like hours but was only a few seconds, Sherlock turned towards John but his eyes wouldn't meet. John was about to say something when he saw the most heart-wrenchingly unexpected thing he had ever seen.

One tear slipped down Sherlock's cheek, crystalline and small on the pale expanse of Sherlock's cheek, and John just knew what Sherlock was thinking. Sherlock hurriedly wiped it away, shattering John's focus. He rushed to Sherlock side and pulled Sherlock's face to his chest. Sherlock's uninjured arm reached up and held on to John with a grip so tight it was on the wrong side of painful.

"Oh don't do that," John whispered kindly, running gentle fingers over the slightly bristly skin of Sherlock's exposed scalp. "You're absolutely beautiful, you tit."

Sherlock nodded into John's embrace.

"I mean it Sherlock," John placed a kiss on the top of Sherlock's head. "You'll always be beautiful."

Sherlock didn't reply. He didn't need to. John already knew what he would have said.


End file.
